Cherub
by Evilyn Grendel
Summary: Being a curious demon, Crowley risks being burned by the Holy Bible to read his story in Genesis only to discover something about Aziraphale's past and his own guilty role in it. Pair fic with Seraph. Cowritten by Arthur Albion.


_Cowritten by Arthur Albion_

_Pair Fic with Seraph, which can be found on my page. Reading order doesn't matter, although this is chronologically the second part._

* * *

**Post-Armageddon - Summer 2019**

Crowley strolled through the bookshop, looking at random covers and spines of books on shelves as he waited for Aziraphale. It had been several months now since Armageddon came and then went without really stopping to visit. They were both technically unemployed now, and that suited them both rather well.

Tonight, they had plans to visit the Globe for a performance of one of the gloomy ones. Crowley hadn't cared enough to remember which one, but at least he knew it wasn't Hamlet. He had come to have something of a personal hatred for Hamlet after making sure it was a raving success four centuries ago. At least the RSC was full of good players, even if the content itself was dull, in his opinion.

Wandering over to the angel's desk, he hovered looking at the books Aziraphale had been reading or appraising or whatever. Unsurprisingly, a Bible was sitting out amongst them and open to some middle bit. Crowley scoffed at it. He picked up a different, closed book and nudged the holy pages. He didn't want to test his theory about the stupid book being as uncomfortable to touch as the floor of a church. Clumsily, he flipped the pages to Genesis. It was the only place he, to his knowledge, made an appearance in the allegedly Holy work. Squinting down at the words, he skimmed through the first few chapters in amusement. Things hadn't gone quite like they were written, but it was near enough. Not like some of the later stories that had been entirely changed for Someone's agenda. Something near the end of chapter three caught his eye and Crowley pushed his dark glasses down to peer at the text.

"Ready, my dear," the appearance of Aziraphale behind him caused Crowley to drop the book he had been holding so as not to touch the Bible directly. The Bible pulled itself closed without anything to hold it open. "What are you doing?"

"Oh, just being nosey, y'know. New books?" He gestured at the pile of them on the desk, hoping the distraction would take.

Aziraphale lit up and gushed about the new series he had just procured. Crowley nodded vaguely without really hearing as he ushered the angel out the door and into the Bentley so they wouldn't be late. He would rather not go at all, but an evening with Aziraphale was worth sitting through a gloomy play.

The play was just as depressing and tedious as he imagined it would be, but Crowley had been preoccupied through most of it. Probably a good thing, or he might have been annoyed at how often his name came up in the play. Hands itched to pull out his mobile during the intermission, but he thought better of it. This was something he didn't want to learn about in public, especially sitting directly next to the angel in question.

Aziraphale seemed to enjoy the play, even though he had seen it before. Probably multiple times over the years, but most certainly in 1607 when it opened originally. Crowley dropped the angel off at the bookshop, and surprisingly declined the invitation to come in for a nightcap. He offered no excuse, and Aziraphale's disappointment was obvious as he drove off back to his flat. It wasn't often they were apart in the aftermath of the apocalypse, but there were very rare occasions when he did return to his flat for longer than was necessary to water and shout at the plants.

Safe in the privacy of his bedroom, Crowley finally allowed himself to pull out his phone and search for a pdf copy of the Bible. He was sure about what he had read, but a visual confirmation wouldn't hurt. As long as his phone didn't spontaneously combust from the pdf. At least his phone was easier to read than a printed book.

_So he drove out the man: and he placed at the east of the garden of Eden cherubim, and a flaming sword which turned every way, to keep the way of the tree of life._

It still took him a minute or so to read through the simple sentence, but his phone dropped from his hands above him onto his chest as he let the words sink in. It wasn't something he had ever considered before. Aziraphale had two wings when he met him on top of the wall. That he might have been anything besides a Principality was quite the shock. Cherubim have four wings.

Confusion whirled in his mind as his phone dimmed, then finally darkened entirely as the screen timed out. Crowley was left lying in bed in the dark as he tried to make sense of this. Why had Aziraphale always called himself a Principality when he was apparently a Cherub? What other secrets was the angel hiding from him? His breath caught as the idea sank through him, the notion that Aziraphale might not fully trust him. Still.

Crowley sat up, his phone sliding down to the bed without his notice. There was no way, he argued with himself. It was unreasonable of him to doubt the angel with only the hearsay of a human book to go on. A book that had been continuously rewritten and translated and subject to interpretation and bias over the millennia. A book he knew had plenty of errors in it already. No, clearly the text was wrong about Aziraphale. Not to mention, he grabbed his phone and looked at the text again, Aziraphale wasn't a plural. Cherubim suggested a plural of Cherub, rather than the one singular Principality that had been there.

He closed the internet tab on the browser and put his phone on the bedside table. With a click of his fingers, he changed his clothes and crawled under the blankets. There was nothing to worry about. He would get the full story and laugh about it with the angel later. Reminiscing about the Garden and their meeting on the wall was always pleasant. It was the moment at the beginning of a very, very long friendship.

* * *

"If you would just listen to my offer-"

"Absolutely not! I've already told you, it's not for sale!"

It had been a few days since Crowley happened across the mistake about Cherubim in the Bible. He was lounging on his usual couch in the angel's shop as Aziraphale tried to shoo out the last of the customers so he could close shop for the day. It wasn't anywhere near the usual closing time, but someone had threatened to buy a book. Aziraphale couldn't have that. Crowley watched as he and the customer argued over the sale despite how the human was all but being physically forced out of the shop. He had half a mind to scare the man off, but it was also amusing to watch the simmering anger of an angel that had begun to bubble.

"I won't leave until you at least hear out my offer! Money is no obstacle, I can offer twice as much as this book is worth. Won't you even consider it?"

A smirk of mischief decidedly set up camp on his face as the yellow began to expand and envelope the whites of his eyes. Slithering over, he wound his way from the floor up Aziraphale's torso to rest on his shoulders and glared at the man. His tongue flicked out at the human who had frozen at the sight of the _massive_ black snake.

Aziraphale took the distraction as an opportunity to snatch the book out of his hands and herd the man out of his shop. He locked the door with a sigh, clutching the book to his chest. Crowley had returned to his favourite form, smirk still in place.

"Thank you, my dear, but was that really necessary? I had the situation perfectly under control."

"Course, but he was annoying. I didn't like the look of him anymore. Not like you wanted to sell him that book anyway. Which one is it?" Strutting back to the couch, pleased with his success, he dropped onto it as Aziraphale followed.

"Oh, it's one in my collection of misprinted Bibles." He eyed Crowley anticipating a scoff or some snide comment, but there didn't seem to be one coming. "Not sure how he found it, I've made quite sure they were placed out of reach of customers. I really would have hated to part with it."

"You hate to part with all of your books. I still don't know why you have a bookshop when you don't want to sell them. Like most _shops_ are expected to do."

"It's not just selling. It is very advantageous to be part of the circuit so I can keep an ear and eye out for new materials."

"Right. All twelve of you?"

There was the snide comment he had been waiting for. Aziraphale didn't rise to the bait.

"Anyway, which misprinted version is that then?"

"The 1651 Bilton and Scaggs. The typesetter became rather frustrated around Ezekiel and left some very rude comments near the beginning of chapter forty-eight. There were also a few additions to the third chapter of Genesis. Not the fault of the typesetter though, those three extra verses."

"Really?" Crowley had mostly asked for the angel's sake, but he sat up at the mention of Genesis chapter three. He wondered which Bible had been on Aziraphale's desk that day, completely forgetting he had Googled the same information later that evening. "I don't think that's the only thing wrong in Genesis."

Aziraphale set the book back on its shelf with the rest of his misprinted Bible collection before he turned to fix the snake with a confused look. "What are you talking about? I didn't know you had ever read the Bible."

"Haven't. Only Genesis. Well, not the whole book, but I like the couple chapters about me."

"Really. Never would have guessed."

"Yeah, anyway. Did you notice in there the humans seem to think there were multiple Cherubim guarding the Tree? Looks like they would give you a promotion." Crowley grinned at the joke until he saw the tense expression on the angel's face. His smile dropped as he realised something was very wrong. "Angel?"

Something flashed in Aziraphale's eyes, too quickly to identify, before he turned back to the shelf to straighten it. "There were Cherubim guarding the Tree. I just thought it might be best not to frighten the humans with such angels hanging around, four faces and wings and flaming swords. The human psyche can be quite a delicate thing." His tone was that of how one might comment on the weather. When the angel returned to his desk, he seemed to have recovered his brief lapse in composure save for favouring one leg in the short walk across the back room.

"Oh." Eyes designed to track movement narrowed and Crowley frowned as he noticed Aziraphale almost limp back to his desk. He couldn't recall the last time he had seen the angel sustain some significant injury. Certainly hadn't occurred in the last few minutes of their conversation here in the safety of the back of the shop.

"I don't remember seeing any Cherubim. I don't think I saw any angels aside from you."

There was a beat as the penny dropped, then Crowley leapt to his feet. "Angel, you, were you, you're not," he couldn't find the words to ask what he suddenly suspected. What he had suspected the night of the play. "I thought you were a Principality."

"I am." Aziraphale didn't seem surprised by the demon's disbelief. He visibly suppressed a sigh. "I was a Cherub, when we met."

If Crowley had been shocked and confused before, this somehow still surprised him more. "But, but, two wings. You only have two wings."

"Human psyche." Aziraphale motioned towards his own head. "It seemed to make them feel more at ease if I only had the one pair out. Not that the other Cherubim liked to play nice just for the sake of the humans."

"So there were other Cherubim? I thought you were the only angel in the Garden."

"On that day, yes. We took shifts. The other Cherubim didn't take to Earth as well as I did. I voluntarily covered many of their shifts so they could remain in Heaven. It worked out quite well, and it even benefited the humans. As I said before, I was very careful not to overwhelm them."

"But, why? How? What happened? Angels _don't_ change rank." Falling wasn't really a change of rank, so much as the removal of it entirely.

Aziraphale had been fidgeting with random papers strewn across his desk. He pushed them aside and sat down heavily in his desk chair, hand on thigh, his face carefully empty. "I believe the whole upset in Heaven had everyone just a tad on edge. Our, my, failure to guard the Tree led to a, uh, job review of sorts. The other Cherubim received reprimands, and since I had been on duty at the time I was demoted to Principality. On the whole, it's actually been a very pleasant job change. Groundwork, for example, which is much more to my liking."

Crowley sat down, hard. Head in hands, elbows on knees, he was beginning to realise just how close he should have come to complete destruction that day on the wall. A Cherub? Cherubim, really any of the First Sphere, would have, should have, smote him on sight. More importantly though, if Aziraphale had been a Cherub when they met on the wall yet was a Principality next they met, then it was entirely his fault.

"Angels don't change rank," he repeated himself quietly, trying to come to terms with this new information. He slipped his glasses off when he finally looked up at Aziraphale. "This is all my fault. How, why did you never tell me?"

"It's not your fault, Crowley," Aziraphale said quickly, too many expressions now flooding his face. "Really. There is little to be gained by wondering what else could have happened. Even if I had caught you in the act, any other demon might have succeeded where you failed. No, I have given it a lot of thought. I think the whole apple business was part of the Plan. There was no getting around it and there is no point in feeling sorry about it now."

Scoffing out of habit as soon as the Plan was mentioned, Crowley flopped back against the couch crossing his arms over his torso. He was still having a difficult time reconciling all this in his mind. Aziraphale's rank didn't change anything, but it was still a shock. "Still doesn't really explain why you never mentioned that, 'oh, by the way, I'm actually a powerful Cherub acting like a powerful Principality instead.' And, and even if the apple thing was part of the stupid Plan, you shouldn't have been punished."

"Demoted," Aziraphale corrected, but without conviction.

"Whatever! It's wrong." Crowley declared emphatically, shifting in his seat again to lean forward. They both knew Heaven didn't really abide by right and wrong so much as just did whatever they pleased when and how it suited them. Bloody great hypocrites.

The angel subconsciously rubbed a hand against his right thigh. "For the record, it was never really important what my rank was. It never came up when we first met and so much time had passed afterwards that it hardly seemed worth mentioning. It doesn't change the fact that I was, and am now, a Principality."

"Yeah, obviously, but," he tried to come up with some rebuttal, but was instead distracted by movement. As he watched the angel's hand, it struck him that Aziraphale was very accepting and almost defending his demotion. His punishment. Crowley thought back on what he knew about Heaven, and the angel's lack of trial flashed through his mind. Yellow eyes narrowed suddenly in anger. He stared at Aziraphale as his mind started to find the connections. "Of course your rank doesn't matter. Principalities get to work on earth, much more so than any Cherub after the destruction of the Garden." He stalled for time, thinking.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley in surprise. He hadn't expected the demon to see things his way so quickly. A nagging thought stirred in the back of his mind, yet the angel couldn't help but relax as he hoped rather than truly believed the matter was reaching its conclusion. "Yes, exactly. The benefits of working on earth far outnumber those of working in Heaven. Heaven doesn't have sushi restaurants and good music and bookshops. You were right about that, of course."

"Right, yeah. Course." Crowley stood with an exaggerated stretch. He hesitated for a moment, before circling around the back of the angel's chair. "Well, Cherub, let's see those wings. You've only ever let me preen the one set, so I'm sure the other is six thousand years in need of attention."

"I have work to do." Aziraphale turned in his seat to face his desk, manoeuvring his back away from Crowley and pulled random piles of paper and books towards himself.

"And I wouldn't dream of stopping you. You work, I'll work. It'll be good for your wings."

"Crowley," Aziraphale said wearily.

"Aziraphale."

He should have known the serpent wouldn't drop it. The angel sat in silence for a moment, hoping against hope that it would all go away if he ignored the demon long enough. He really tried. Shuffled around a few papers, just to be convincing.

"Angel?"

"I don't have a second set of wings anymore, Crowley! I told you, I'm not a Cherub," the angel finally snapped.

Crowley had been expecting that answer, but he still flinched at the words as he stood invisible behind Aziraphale. He knew exactly what it was like to lose your wings, though he also knew it had been a different experience for Aziraphale. One didn't bathe in boiling sulfur and remain an angel. "If they took your wings, then it's a punishment. Not just a demotion." He spoke quietly, hoping Aziraphale would stop this game. Stop defending Heaven, even unconsciously.

Aziraphale's back was tense, but he sighed heavily. "I know. I didn't want you blaming yourself for what happened. We both know Heaven isn't, well, the most forgiving. I was told I ought to be grateful not to have been cast out with the rest of you. It was difficult enough trying to keep the other Cherubim from receiving the same punishment. Of course it was punishment. It was supposed to be humiliating. I was supposed to spend time on earth to redeem myself by thwarting the Enemy to make up for the one time I had failed to thwart you. However, if it hadn't worked out that way, I doubt I would have ever seen you again. Even if it's wrong, I suppose I do count myself lucky in some ways."

Crowley listened. This sounded more like Aziraphale rather than Heaven reenforced dogma. Aziraphale seemed to have come to terms with this situation long ago.

The angel leaned deeper into his chair, trying to ignore the urge to touch his back and instead rubbed his thigh again. Yellow eyes glanced down and again took in the way Aziraphale kept rubbing his leg. Crowley had never seen the angel do that before today. They could heal any human injuries inflicted on their corporations short of full discorporation.

Maybe this punishment hadn't only included the angel's second pair of wings. The anger he had felt earlier surged with a new vengeance. Crowley was angry with himself for being the source of Azirapahle's punishment and suffering. He was angry with Heaven for their treatment of his angel and their unreasonable double standards. He was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact Aziraphale had been created as a Cherub. And the fact that Cherub-now-Principality hadn't killed him on the wall of a garden only to become his best friend.

Crowley brought both hands up to rub his face as he tried to wade through the flood of his thoughts. He groaned, turning away from where Aziraphale sat to begin pacing up and down the aisles of the shop. There was so much to think about. Too much.

"Crowley," Aziraphale had finally turned in his seat, watching the demon in concern.

Crowley waved a hand to show he had heard but didn't offer anything in reply as he passed through the middle of the shop. The anger was subsiding. Knowing he was upset over something in the past made it a little easier to push aside. For now. Crowley could stop time, but he couldn't change the past. Not that he would want to. Aziraphale was right, they wouldn't be here now if anything had happened differently. He could, and would, be upset with himself later. Right now, there was something more pressing to think on.

The demon sighed when he came near to their sitting area again.

"I am sorry I didn't tell you. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just-" the angel trailed off.

"-just too difficult to talk about, yeah. I understand. I think any demon could understand not talking about punishment." Crowley hesitated, then sat down on the table that was in front of the couch and behind the desk chair. There was less than a foot between them this way, and they were nearly on eye level with each other. The table sat a bit lower than the chair. His glasses had been left on the couch ages ago, but he wasn't concerned about them at the moment.

"Angel, I-, I'm, I am sorry." It wasn't easy to say, but he meant it. Aziraphale looked like he was about to interrupt, but Crowley hurried on. "No, listen, I wouldn't change anything in hindsight because I am, well, I'm happy, to be here. With you. But I never meant to hurt you. Back then. Or ever. I didn't have directions from Hell. Wasn't really an organised system in place yet. Beelzebub really did just tell me to make some trouble, and then sent me out. I had, had absolutely no idea-"

"It's all right. I cannot imagine experiencing life on earth without you and I wouldn't have changed even one thing." Aziraphale reached out and placed his hand over Crowley's to silence him, meeting his eyes with the gentlest of smiles. "I forgive you, my dear."

The demon flinched again. He was unable to hold Aziraphale's gaze and glanced away feeling rather guilty for something he had done over six thousand years ago. Internally, he cringed for having always been so proud of that moment in the past. How often he had brought up that moment when they met on the wall thinking it was a nice memory. One of the better memories between them over sixty centuries. He was a fool.

Crowley couldn't sit under that loving gaze any longer and stood once more with intent to resume his pacing. One hand ran through his hair before words tumbled out of his mouth without permission. "How did you not hate me?" It was mostly rhetorical at this point in their lives, but the demon did wonder if there had been a period in time where Aziraphale had resented him for the damage he had caused.

The angel was out of his chair in a flash, cupping Crowley's face in his hands. "I could never hate you."

"Never?" There was a hint of disbelief in Crowley's tone.

"I never have, not once."

The pain in his eyes was obvious. "You're too good, angel. Much too good for me."

"I think you have it backwards, dear." Aziraphale tried for a smile, but the pain in the demon's expression very much mirrored his own. His thumb traced the demon's cheek. "I know this is all so much, and I know you will blame yourself no matter what I say. But please, try to forgive yourself."

The scoff came out of habit, but it lacked the usual condescension. "Not really in my job description, angel." There was no accompanying smile to hint at what might have been a weak joke. He couldn't muster any sort of warmth or smile. Crowley vaguely wondered if this is what it would feel like if his corporation didn't have a heart. There was such a chasm within him, but he was doing his best not to fall. He couldn't cope with all this.

"And I'm fairly certain fraternising with angels wasn't a part of your job description, my dear. Besides, we're currently unemployed," Aziraphale said. He gazed into Crowley's eyes, then pulled the demon closer and planted a light kiss on his forehead.

Crowley really couldn't cope with this. Feeling more like a snake as the seconds ticked by, he wanted to pull away so he could collapse into a boneless heap on the couch but he also didn't want to leave Aziraphale. The angel was the only thing grounding him. Arms moved of their own accord to wrap around Aziraphale almost clinging to the fabric of that cream coat and he brought his head down to gently rest on one shoulder. He nuzzled his face into the crook of Aziraphale's neck as the angel cupped the back of his head. Something like a content hum escaped without the demon's notice.

The angel held his demon close, eyes closed. The hand at the back of his head moved up to lightly trail through red hair soothingly. He didn't care how long they stood there. Until the end of the world, again, he would remain there holding him as long as Crowley needed.


End file.
